


One Night Stand

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, BDSM, Character Death, Fantasizing, M/M, Masochism, Mitsuhide Dies, Sexual Tension, Sexual Undertones, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: What a pity he could not live within that blissful moment, to experience it over and over again.





	One Night Stand

Thirteen days. Frankly it was much longer than Mitsuhide had thought he would last, but he didn’t care, nor did it actually hold any sort of significance, because Nobunaga-kou had been once and truly elevated. He’d shed his mortal form and he need only return now, more powerful than ever before – truly immortal. Until then he would live on within the heart of every breathing, moving being, just as Mitsuhide had felt him do so until now, waiting for his simple agent to do what he was bound to do. 

Whether that was to bring him again into this world or follow him into the next, Mitsuhide didn’t know – he didn’t _care_ as long as it meant that he could please Nobunaga-kou, and his deliverance had come in the form of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who was holding him by the throat in one massive fist, his feet quite some distance from the ground.

Dangling, limp and lifeless and helpless – wasn’t this so similar to another thrill that he had once experienced? Either way, he couldn’t help but whine, squirming in Hideyoshi’s unyielding grip as it tightened and then faster than he could even comprehend he was thrown into the ground with such force that it made his ears ring. Oh yes, yes – how delightful, what a wonderful way this would be to die! He could just imagine what those hands would feel like on his legs – whether they were forcing them apart or tearing them directly out of their sockets, it would be ecstasy either way. 

“More,” he rasped, staggering to his feet, his scythe dragging loosely behind him – even now he still had that giddy grin slapped across his face. This was nothing more than a game to him, a promising source of endless amusement, and he would milk it for all that it was worth! “Take me _apart,_ Hideyoshi-dono,” he purred, swaying like a reed in the wind, “Do destroy me!”

“Rest assured, Akechi MItsuhide, that I will grant your wish.” And then without mercy a fist slammed into his stomach, so fast and so powerful that he’d not had even the smallest chance to react before he was sent flying once again, only coming to his senses after he’d hit the ground again. By no reasonable standards should he have been able to stand again – battered and bloodied and bruised as he was, but Mitsuhide was floating, he was riding this endless, wonderful high, and he wanted more of it, more!

The bruise on his stomach was surely already blossoming, and he ached with every unsteady step that he took, trying vainly to reach out for the source of so much pleasure, so much pain. Make my ending as long and as drawn out and agonizing as you please, he begged, and threw himself at the man who intended to be his usurper. The country, these lands – they meant nothing to him. He would join Nobunaga-kou, and his deliverance would be a singular moment of pleasure the likes of which he had never known before – of course, his only regret was that it would not be Nobunaga-kou to deliver the final blow. 

In the weakened, dizzied, and disoriented state that he was in, Mitsuhide and his shaky reliance on his own momentum was no match for Hideyoshi’s unbearable strength and power – he flung the scythe away as if it weighed no more than a stick, and had Mitsuhide turned around, arms twisted up behind his back in an instant.

“How delightful,” he tittered, and felt the grip on his wrists tighten painfully. He didn’t bother to hide his moan of pleasure – let the world experience his ultimate joy! There would be no greater moment than this – oh please, let it be brutal! “Such a pity that it can only happen once, Hideyoshi-dono. I much rather would have you bring me this pleasure a _thousand_ times over!” 

Hideyoshi didn’t need to speak to convey his response, Mitsuhide heard it loud and clear – you’re sick. Yes, yes I am, he replied, and wonderfully so. The sheer strength, the ease by which he had overpowered him had made Mitsuhide’s entire body, his very blood, thrum with arousal. He could feel his face heating up, the way that every sense seemed to heighten, and his knees gave out right there and then – he was hanging, utterly powerless, from Hideyoshi’s hold. 

“Please – “ He whimpered, half tortured and half lost, “I want _more,_ Hideyoshi-dono! Let me die – let me go to him, please make it last!” He was forced to his knees instead, and remembered the time that Nobunaga-kou had last done so – how would it feel, to take this undeniable man into his mouth, he wondered? Surely he would not be merciful, surely he would be just as unrelenting and cruel. Let it be so, let it be – 

A single hand gripped the top of his head and twisted. There was a wet, sickening snap. Akechi Mitsuhide fell to the ground, the lifeless, broken puppet he always had been, that blissful grin still stubbornly refusing to leave his face even as he went to join his Lord.


End file.
